A Journey to Start Them All
by Alex Traxel
Summary: The Kharlan War - the longest dispute in the world's history. Finally, after 1000 years of arguments and skirmishes, a group rises up to bring an end to the war, and an end to the unification of the worlds.
1. The Aristocrat

**So...instead of doing my homework, I started writing this. I've been having fun writing non-insert ToS stories recently, what with working on _The Final Straw_, and wanted to start my own story about the heroes of the Kharlan War. I'm going to try and follow the characters' basic backgrounds, which I found on the Tales wiki (Aselia), while also trying to add my own touches, like Darren. Hopefully it turns out as well as I am imagining it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ToS or any of the locations, characters, or storylines that are included.**

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**The Aristocrat**

Kratos had never been overly fond of fancy parties. There were too many people in ridiculously flamboyant outfits, and each and every one of them spoke about something dull and usually mundane. There was also a sort of chaos to the crowd, but it was a much more organized chaos than Kratos was used to. He was used to the running and shouts and press of bodies that came with war; here, it more common to see people tripping over someone else's clothing or hurrying across the room to talk to one person in particular or, on occasion, attempting to hastily correct something that had been said and only making it worse. The chaos was quieter, subtler, but that was the only word for it. And Kratos was sick and tired of it.

If he had had a choice, Kratos would have preferred to be fighting or planning instead of standing about watching the nobles make fools of themselves. However, he had no choice in the matter - as one of the protectors of Tethe'alla's royal family, it was required that he attend their pretty gatherings in order to ensure nothing untoward happened. This mostly meant that he stood beside the wall and stared out over people's heads, occasionally walking amongst the nobles to remind them of his presence. There were a few other soldiers doing the same thing, the difference between them and Kratos being that they actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The young man shifted uncomfortably in his armor, trying to get it to stop pressing into his sides so sharply. He would have been fine if he had been allowed his normal armor, though it was too worn and dull to wear to such an established gathering. Instead, he wore bulkier, more brilliantly engraved armor that had been designed to look pleasant, rather than for actual practical uses such as defense. It was mostly blue, with silver edging and thin swirling patterns that were dyed green. The crest of Tethe'alla was displayed prominantly on the breastplate, dyed in an array of bright colors. Kratos felt absolutely ridiculous in the armor.

"See anything interesting?" Kratos turned to see who had spoken, a small smile coming to his face. There were few enough reasons to smile anymore, with his recent promotion to leader of the Tethe'allan army after his father's death, not to mention the constant war that waged just outside the capital's walls. However, he always managed to pull up a smile when confronted with Soleille, the king's daughter. She could only be called beautiful, with her sweeping blue gown and her blond hair pulled into a tight braid down her back. Her light green eyes glittered happily, her innocence so far unspoiled by the sights of war, and she wore only a light dusting of make-up, something that stood out amongst the noble women who had make-up an inch thick.

"Well now I do," Kratos said light-heartedly, the cheerful words sounding strange on his tongue. Like smiling, playful banter was usually about as far from his thoughts as Sylvarant's capital was from Tethe'alla's, and yet it also tended to show itself more frequently around Soleille. She giggled, her face coloring lightly. "Are you enjoying yourself this evening?"

Soleille smiled, a flash of perfectly white teeth, as she looked around at the assembled nobles. "Well enough," she answered, nodding politely to a couple of noble women who were trying to catch her eye. The women hesitated for a moment before moving off amongst the crowd, getting lost in the swirling mass of color. "However, it didn't think it was possible for someone to recieve so many well wishes, and I know there are more to come."

"Well, this gathering is for your birthday," Kratos pointed out, doing a quick sweep of the crowd. He was rather glad that his height just surpassed six feet, as it was a simple matter of gazing over everyone's heads without even having to strain his neck. "And from what I gather, it makes a nice story for someone to say that they personally conversed with Tethe'alla's princess, even if everyone else also has."

Another giggle escape her lips, light hearted and childish. But then, Soleille wasn't too far out of childhood to begin with, having just turned eighteen that day. "Yes, I suppose you're right, as always." Pulling her attention away from the quiet mutters and laughter that filled the room, she turned her eyes up to the young soldier, a man just three years her senior. "Do you participate in these conversations, Kratos, or have you been eavesdropping again?"

"It's hardly eavesdropping if no one is making an effort to conceal their conversation," Kratos said matter-of-factly. Solielle attempted to give him a stern, reproachful look, but the effort was wasted as her lips kept trying to pull upward at the corners. Looking out at the nobles once more, Kratos gestured to the crowd with one heavy gauntlet, saying, "As much as I enjoy this conversation, I think you should rejoin your fans. There seems to be a great many people who are still wanting to have that bragging right."

Soleille rolled her eyes slightly, the motion almost imperceptable, and rested her hand on Kratos's arm. "I suppose I should. I'll be seeing you another time then, Kratos. Be careful you don't strain your muscles with all that smiling."

Now it was Kratos's turn to roll his eyes and he gave her a gentle push back into the mass of vibrantly colored people. "I'll try," he said dryly. "Happy birthday, Soleille." She smiled and waved over her shoulder before she was intercepted and verbally dragged into the crowd of waiting nobles. Kratos looked around once more before deciding a change of scenery was needed. He stretched his legs, stiff from standing still for so long and from supporting the armor's ridiculous weight, and started through the crowd, eyes sweeping left and right as he walked. People shifted out of his way, not wanting to accidentally get hit by the heavily armored young man.

For a few minutes, Kratos walked amongst the nobles, half-listening to their conversations. Here, someone was talking about a decline in fresh fruits; there, someone was telling a rather cruel story about a half-elven boy they had to run from their property; and way over there, there was a debate over the proper way to apply a healing gel. Overall, there was nothing interesting, but listening to the pointless chattering gave Kratos something else to focus on besides the never-ending sea of colors, which was starting to make his eyes ache.

Finally, when it started to feel like his armor was getting heavier, he returned to his spot against the wall, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. The party had been in progress for the last two hours, and it showed no signs of stopping. Kratos's muscles were beginning to protest the weight that they were being forced to hold up. Why the dress armor couldn't be just as light as normal armor while still looking nice, he had no idea. Perhaps he could suggest something lighter at some point, since it would hardly do to have the soldiers collasping under the weight of all the steel forced on them.

The young army leader was left alone for a little while, no one really paying him much attention. For all they cared, he was simply there for decoration, a nice little display set up along the wall. Not that Kratos wanted anyone to approach him. Though he was more than capable of the kind of speech necessary to speak to the nobles, it would only be sickening niceties and then pointless chatter, which would distract him from his reason of standing in one spot for hours on end. However, even though the nobles didn't seem at all interested in him, it didn't mean that no one wanted to strike up a conversation.

A young man, not quite out of his teens, came up beside Kratos with a large grin. He was dressed in the same heavily decorated armor and a spear was strapped to his back. His brown eyes gleamed with a childish interest, and his own auburn hair stuck straight up as if he'd been struck by a Lightning spell. It was pretty obvious at first glance that the two young men were related.

"What did you do now, Darren?" Kratos sighed, turning his attention to his little brother. He'd been staring at nobles for a full two hours; no one would mind if he looked away for a little bit to berate the teenager before him.

Darren gave an exaggerated shrug, enough so that it actually moved the shoulder plates of his armor, his grin turning into a sly smile. "You know the Talias's daughter, Ellie?" Kratos thought about it for a moment before nodding. Ellie was a little younger than his brother's seventeen and was normally so shy that she wouldn't speak if there was someone around that she didn't know. Immediately, Darren's smile grew and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making his older brother snort in disgust.

"You were supposed to be working, not getting together with yet another girl," Kratos said with a shake of his head, turning away from his little brother. "And when you get in trouble for this, I am the last person that wants to hear your complaints." Darren huffed and his armor clanked; Kratos assumed he had crossed his arms.

"Why would I get in trouble? It's not like I forced her to do anything she didn't want," he protested. Kratos glanced his way and raised a skeptical eyebrow. While the teen never physically forced a girl to be with him, he usually had some manipulative hand in the decision. "What? I didn't! Apparently Ellie has had a crush on me for a while. She's been wanting to be with me, but she just hasn't wanted to tell me." Kratos kept up his skeptical look for a moment until Darren started to squirm uncomfortably, at which point the older of the two brothers resumed doing his job.

There was silence between the two for a moment, broken only by the continued noises of the princess's birthday celebrations. "You know, Kratos, you're too up-tight. You need to relax," Darren said suddenly, surprising the older Aurion.

"That's rather difficult, considering I'm leading half of a war," Kratos said after a moment.

"That's what I mean! You need to find time to relax a little bit or you're going to explode from all that bottled up stress," Darren said. The elder Aurion snorted, still not looking at his brother. "Like with Soleille. I bet she'd like that." There was no answer from Kratos except for him shifting uncomfortably where he stood. "Have you even kissed her yet?" Still no response, the silence dragging on for a minute before Darren suddenly started laughing. "You haven't, have you! I think you should. It'll help you enough, just that one kiss. And it might even lead to even more...relaxing activities with her."

Kratos looked around and glared at his brother, but the look that made many hardened soldiers flinch only made Darren's grin widen. "That's not the best answer to this supposed problem, and I also don't see how it's any of your business," he said curtly.

Still looking rather proud of himself, Darren shrugged, fiddling with one of the carvings in his armor. "I don't know, I think it's a pretty good answer myself. You never know until you've tried..."

"No," Kratos said simply, turning his back on his brother. "Now, you should probably go make another round. I think a fight may start between those two nobles over there, and they may need someone to mediate it." There was an irritated huff from behind him, but then Darren moved away, albeit with a bit of reluctance. When he was gone, Kratos let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head slowly. He could never understand how his little brother had turned out like he had. He'd grown up in the same household as Kratos, and yet somehow managed to be as different as was possible, personality-wise. It didn't make much sense.

Shaking his head once again to rid himself of thoughts of his brother, as well as unwanted mental images that Darren had inadvertantly put in his mind, Kratos once more turned his attention to the nobles. They were boring, but they at least weren't pressuring him to start suddenly kissing princesses.


	2. The Officer

**So, chapter two! Where the last chapter was Kratos's introduction (one I wish I could have made longer), this is Yuan's. I apologize if I get any military terminology wrong, but I am trying my best. Anyway, enjoy.**

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**The Officer**

There was no mistaking the fact that there had been a battle, and recently. Bodies lay where they had fallen, the two sides nearly indistinguishable due to the blood that stained their armor. Weapons lay abandoned or imbedded within a soldier, and crows were hopping eagerly across the field. There was a heavy stench of blood and decay, and any who moved through it found themselves silenced by the atmosphere alone. It was not a place for loud conversations.

For what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, Yuan crouched beside another body, wiping away blood smeared across the breastplate. The Sylvaranti crest stared back, a slash mark cutting it in half. Yuan sighed and shook his head, grabbing onto the dead man's arm and hauling him up. The half-elf pulled the man onto his back with some effort and rose, carrying the man across the battlefield to where their dead were being gathered. A few years ago, he would have been disturbed by the fact that he even had to _touch_ a dead body; now, it had been so long since he'd started fighting, it was starting to become routine.

The rapidly growing lines of dead soldiers was a depressing sight. A large number of Sylvaranti fighters, most of them simple foot soldiers, had been killed in the skirmish. Some of the dead were as young as fourteen or fifteen, eager boys who didn't know what they would be getting into. A good portion of them were half-elves who had been forced into the war to boost up Sylvarant's military numbers. Others were experienced fighters, men Yuan had fought alongside for years, who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seeing them made Yuan worry about it being him lying there, lost amongst the rows of dead, cut to pieces and covered in blood. It was hardly a pleasant thought.

Collecting the dead took up a good portion of the day. Sylvaranti casualties were moved gently and neatly to the lines of bloodied men; Tethe'allans were piled quickly and carelessly off to one side of the battlefield. Yuan had ended up directing men halfway through the day, seated in a chair that someone had dragged out for him. He had recieved a rather nasty gash down one leg during the fight, and while it had been lightly treated after the Tethe'allans had retreated, the strain of carrying an extra two hundred pounds at any given time had made it bleed anew. Though he felt useless just sitting there doing nothing, there wasn't really anything he could do, and so he told himself that he was just getting a much-needed break.

While some soldiers had been searching for Sylvaranti casualties, others had been digging shallow graves. Once all of the dead were found, they were carefully moved to the holes and buried, blocks of wood marking where each grave sat. Even the half-elves, the much-despised race, were given their own separate burials, though Yuan suspected his presence might have influenced that. No one really wanted to piss off the short-tempered young half-elf lieutenant, no matter how much they disliked him.

Finally, just as the moon was starting to rise, the unpleasant work finished. No one said anything as whatever supplies they'd brought were loaded into wagons and the soldiers stretched out sore limbs in preparation for the short walk back to camp. The velocidragons were readied, either being harnessed to the wagons or saddled. A couple half-elf healers wandered amongst the soldiers, ridding them of any minor cramps or injuries and stemming bloodflow from more serious, recently-opened wounds. Any major healing would be done back at camp, where there were more healers who could use more advanced spells.

Once everything was ready, Yuan climbed into his velocidragon's saddle, ignoring the help he was offered. The lower ranking soldiers grouped up, some of the more seriously injured men being carefully moved to one of the wagons. The trip back to camp was relatively short, a brisk twenty minute journey in the moonlight. Usually, they attempted to put more space between the main camp and the battles, but the Tethe'allans had snuck in closer than the Sylvaranti army would have preferred, no doubt with ambush on their minds. At the very least, the Tethe'allans' close attack had meant the surviving Sylvaranti soldiers could get back that much quicker, which was something to be thankful for.

The army camp was practically a city all its own. Rows and rows of tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Small lamps lit the pathways, as well as the occasional camp fire. Men in light armor wandered between the tents, weapons hanging from belts or on back harnesses, ready for an attack. Others were dressed lightly and laughed with comrades, spending their time drinking or gambling. The clash of steel echoed through the camp from the few sparring sessions that were still ongoing, as well as the blacksmiths' edge of the camp. Women and children occasionally made an appearance, members of the following that any army picked up. Velocidragons roared out over the noise, and wagon wheels squeaked as supplies were carted from one area to another. The smell of smoked meat drifted through the air, along with the smoke from fires and pipes alike.

As soon as the new arrivals reached camp, they scattered. Some went off to their tents and much needed rest; others sought out comrades, hoping for something more light-hearted than what they had just left. Then there were the men that had that haunted look about them as they stumbled off, and everyone knew that they would be found heavily hung over in the morning. Some men reunited with lovers or had to break the news of someone's death, and then there was the line of men on their way to the medics, assisting wounded soldiers or going to get their own injuries healed.

Yuan slid off his velocidragon, his leg twinging painfully as he suddenly put his full weight on it. Though it would have been easier to ride the creature into camp, it was a lot harder to get around and there was a greater chance of accidentally trampling someone. Keeping hold of the velocidragon's reins, he joined the throng of people in the camp, trying to avoid limping as much as possible. A vast majority of the soldiers already belittled him behind his back due to his race; he hardly needed to make them think that he was weak as well. He wished he had been smart enough to carry an apple gel or two with him.

The medical tents were full, both of new arrivals and those soldiers whose conditions were being closely watched. Yuan expected to be standing around for a little while, since there were men more seriously injured than himself, but as soon as he came into sight, one of the healers waved him over. He looked around him quickly to make sure the gesture was really for him, and he only got a more impatient wave for his hesitation. Nodding, Yuan maneuvered around the waiting soldiers, getting any number of grumbles and complaints rising up behind him.

The half-elf healer grinned and gestured for him to sit, brushing his bangs out of his face as he knelt down to inspect Yuan's leg. It always amazed the half-elf lieutenant that the healer could be so chipper, considering the number of gruesome injuries he had to deal with on at least a weekly basis. "Rough fight, then?" the healer asked, cleaning up the gash so that no dirt or other contaminants would be closed up in the wound.

"Not much more than usual," Yuan answered, flinching as his gash was prodded by the other half-elf. "I just let my guard down. Thought someone was dead, and then they sliced me with a sword." He glanced over at the group of soldiers he'd come in with, half of which were sitting on the ground as they waited. "You know, I hardly have the worst injury. Why didn't you get someone else first, Brent?"

The healer looked at Yuan like the blue-haired half-elf was missing something obvious, standing and brushing dirt from his pants. "Your colonel is wanting to see you, once you're capable of walking properly." Yuan blinked and almost asked why _he_ was being asked for, but stopped himself as Brent closed his eyes and started a spell. A faint white circle shone beneath his feet, only visible if you knew to look for it. A moment later, he held one hand out palm-first to Yuan and muttered, "Healing Wind." A light breeze swirled around Yuan, blowing his long bangs into his face, and the open wound on his leg closed itself up, leaving a pink scar in its place.

Brent lowered his hand and crouched back down to inspect his handiwork. He grinned again and nodded, gesturing for Yuan to stand back up. "Be careful with that leg for a couple of days. It's not going to bleed, but it's going to hurt for a while. So no more stumbling over rogue swords for at least a week," the healer advised, making Yuan chuckle.

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, I should probably go see what the colonel wants. Thanks, Brent." Yuan waved over his shoulder, sliding back amongst the soldiers and healers that crowded the tents. Like Brent promised, his leg ached, but it was a lot easier to walk normally than it was a few minutes ago. It was also a lot more comfortable without blood flowing down his leg and soaking his sock further.

The command tents were located in the middle of the camp, and Yuan knew that was where he could find his colonel. The tents were the largest in the camp, and amongst some of the busiest. Messengers ran back and forth, searching for certain soldiers, releasing orders from the higher-ups, or bringing reports in to the command tent. A large number of lights had been moved into the tents, whose flaps were tied open, showing the men gathered around various tables. The tables held maps, diagrams, piles of reports, inventory sheets, casualty counts, and one had soldier-shaped pieces that represented the two different sides. A computer monitor was set up in the largest of the tents, text scrolling across the screen at a constant rate, listing off reports and figures sent from some of the smaller, outlying camps.

A boy, about sixteen years old, hurried over to Yuan, his face flushed and hair in wild disarray. It seemed like he'd been kept on his feet for quite some time, running who knew what kind of errands. "Lieutenant Ka-Fai," the boy panted, pausing a moment to try and regain his breath. "Colonel Seran has been waiting for you, sir. He's right this way." The boy turned and started walking briskly to one of the tents, ducking around anyone who got in the way and leaving Yuan to follow behind him.

The colonel was alone in one of the smaller tents, seated at a table. He was scowling down at a piece of paper that he was writing on, occasionally jabbing it with his pencil in displeasure. The man wore the same kind of armor as all the other soldiers, and his red hair was clipped short and neatly. Even his beard was perfectly trimmed, without a single hair out of place. Some of the men joked that the colonel spent as much time making sure his hair was perfect as he did making sure the army didn't get butchered. Yuan had been a part of this teasing at some point as well, but as far as anyone knew, Colonel Seran was completely oblivious to it.

For a minute, Seran was too wrapped up in whatever he was working on to realize that he had visitors. When he did, he just flicked his eyes upward for a brief second before dismissing the boy with a wave of his hand. The boy was quick to disappear, running off to whatever job next needed his attention. Yuan stood where he was silently, hands clasped behind his back, and his impatience growing with every moment that the silence stretched. He had never been very patient to begin with, and he was sure the colonel was continuing the silence on purpose. Seran had never really liked the fact that Yuan was a half-elf that kept jumping up in rank. Yuan attributed the promotions to his ingenuity and confidence, as well as a great deal of luck; Seran thought it was done through some kind of half-elven trickery.

Finally, Seran spoke, though he still didn't look up from his paper. "I see that the Tethe'allans were run off, but with heavy casualties amongst our own forces," the colonel said, and Yuan stayed silent. Colonel Seran sometimes got quite angry if the half-elf spoke up when not directly ordered to, and so Yuan had just learned not to chance it. The colonel's expression turned more sour as he glared at the paper as if it had personally wronged him. "I am told that your captain and the second lieutenant were killed in the battle." Again, Yuan remained silent, and Seran finally looked up with a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, you are currently the highest ranking member of your team, and there would be more paperwork and annoyances if you were skipped over, so congratulations. You've just been promoted to captain."

Yuan blinked, ignoring the fact that the colonel announced this fact as if the words were poisonous. The half-elf was more caught up in the fact that, not only was he a half-elf who had suddenly been bumped up yet another rank, but he was also only twenty years old. Admittedly, he'd been a part of the Sylvaranti army since he was thirteen, but that hardly meant anything. There were men who had spent the same amount of time, if not longer, and were still a lower rank. It just seemed to happen that as soon as he rose above being a private, promotions just kept popping up suddenly and frequently. "Th-thank you, sir," Yuan forced out, a grin spreading across his face as he saluted. The colonel snorted, making no effort to hide his displeasure.

Colonel Seran suddenly stood, turned, and walked off, calling over his shoulder, "Follow me, captain. I have a job for you." Yuan's stomach did a strange, twisting dance at the thought of any job that the colonel thought to give _him_, but followed anyway. He glanced down at one of the shoulder pads of his armor, considering when he'd have a chance to change the symbol of his rank. It would most likely have to be soon, if Seran wanted his job to get started in the near future, and Yuan made a mental note to drop by the blacksmiths' section before going to bed.

Yuan was led over to one of the maps spread across a table, different colored lines and markers almost making it impossible to read. There was a large circle, smack dab in the middle of Sylvarant's territory, that represented the army camp. Smaller circles denoted the out-lying camps, and squares were towns. A few squares had X's through them in red ink, and others were circled multiple times in various colors. Lines branched off from the Sylvaranti camp, going in every direction, with small numbers and words written along each line. It kind of looked like someone had let a little kid into the tents, given him a collection of markers, and told him to go crazy.

The colonel jabbed a finger at a large square, one that had been circled a number of times. There was a small paragraph written next to it, the text illegible without a magnifying glass. "Do you know what this city is?" Seran asked, his tone suggesting that he expected the answer to be no.

"Yes, sir. It's Meltokio, Tethe'alla's capital city," Yuan answered immediately, and Seran scowled.

"Good. Then you should be able to get there just fine," the colonel said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want you and your company to head out for Meltokio at first light. We need this city either destroyed or taken; whichever will be the quickest choice of action. If we can destroy their capital, it will deal a large blow to the Tethe'allans. Enlist any foot soldiers you need to fill your ranks, and I expect you to keep at it until Meltokio has fallen or you all have been killed. Dismissed."

Yuan saluted again, this time attempting to keep a sour look off his face as he turned on his heal and left the command center. A single company was too few soldiers to do much to the great capital of Tethe'alla, at least without an insane amount of luck and subterfuge. Even filling his ranks with foot soldiers - which would simply give Yuan more disposable men to throw at the opposing soldiers, instead of anyone extremely helpful - his company would number less than three hundred armed soldiers. Whereas Meltokio had a nice population of over five thousand residents, a good thousand of those being trained fighters, and another two thousand capable of wielding anything weapon-shaped and possibly able to do damage.

Sighing, the newly promoted captain turned to the blacksmithing section, intent on changing the symbol on his armor. Then, he would go gather some men to add to his company, and inform them of what would be happening. He'd also need to promote a few people himself - Seran would be leaving any other promotions in Yuan's "capable" hands - and make sure his men were well rested and ready to go. He considered switching soldiers with other companies, considering most of the survivors of the last encounter had been injured or were currently drinking themselves into a stupor. And _then_ he'd have to ensure they had the supplies they'd need, would have to gather up some healers and wagons, grab enough provisions for both the trek there and back as well as enough for a two-week stay at least. Not to mention finding fresh velocidragons, and getting some of the crafters to accompany him, in order to repair weapons, armor, and any broken wagons.

As much as Yuan was glad of the promotion, he wished it had happened after this assault. Being captain was great and all, but it was such hard work. If only his previous captain was still around to do this in his place. But then, if it hadn't been for the promotion, this assignment most likely would have been handed off to another team, most likely one larger than his. It had probably been Seran's plan from the beginning, to send the fresh half-elf captain up against impossible odds, knowing that there was a strong chance he would get killed.

Yuan really could not stand that man.


End file.
